


Complete Circuit

by LD200



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Androids Have Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs Repairs, Connor Deserves Happiness, Emotional Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Thirium Pump Play (Detroit: Become Human), Trust Kink, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 01:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18216590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LD200/pseuds/LD200
Summary: “Christ, Connor, do you really think we’re ready for this?”Connor’s face was serene. “I trust you.”...It’s been a while since Connor has undergone routine maintenance and he needs something in his chest cavity tweaked a little. Hank has been taking it upon himself these days to learn more about androids, but he hasn’t done something quite this invasive yet. Connor leaves his sensory receptors engaged, that way he can tell immediately if anything doesn’t feel the way it should. It doesn’t go according to plan, but leaving his sensory receptors on turns out to be one of the best decisions he’s ever made.ALTERNATIVELY: The one where Connor needs something inside of him adjusted and it turns into weird hot human-android sex.





	Complete Circuit

**Author's Note:**

> This is self-indulgent and kinda fucked up (although probably no more than usual for this fandom, and 1000% consensual). What can I say? I needed a distraction from the dark stuff going on in my other story and I’ve had some version of this idea in my head for a while now, so it seemed like a good time to give it a swing. The tags hopefully already make this pretty clear, but this gets extremely explicit. Also, for what it’s worth, this is probably the only time I’ll ever utilize the fanon concept of androids having self-lubricating assholes. Nothing against it, I just really, really dig the intimacy of characters taking their time opening up and preparing and such, but as you’ll see, this story doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room (literally) for them to go get lube out of the bedside drawer lmao. One more thing: ‘thirium pump play’ doesn’t mean the cylindrical regulator slot. You remember ‘From the Dead,’ don’t you? Where you can see behind the chassis?
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

By the time November 2039 rolled around, it was legally required that all workplaces have at least two people – human or android – who could make emergency repairs to androids if needed. Certain high-risk fields, police work being one of them, had their own set of rules. Anybody with an android partner had to at least know the basics of repairs and replacements in case of injury on the job. After a year with Connor, Hank had those down. The basics, that was.

Off the clock, it was standard practice for androids to go to a Cyberlife facility when maintenance was needed. Connor’s relationship with Cyberlife was volatile at best, so that complicated things. Hank knew a guy who knew a gal up in Lake Orion, some semi-retired Cyberlife employee who’d done some off-the-record work for deviant androids before the revolution, and they’d used her services a few times, but beyond that, Connor had refused to trust anyone connected to Cyberlife, even android employees. Maybe especially android employees, since they could get his identification data at a glance. Hank couldn’t blame him.

But Lake Orion was far, and Hank already had the perfect excuse to learn the ins and outs of Connor’s needs anyway, so they’d decided to work on it over the last several months. Hell, maybe one day he’d be one of the people at the DPD that androids went to when they needed to be fixed. Wouldn’t that be something.

It was a frigid autumn day when he and Connor got home from work and, after Hank changed and came back out of the bedroom, Connor turned to him with an odd look in his eye.

Hank pulled up short. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” Dry-washing his hands, Connor moved to the kitchen table. Hank took the cue and sat down with him. “There’s a small component in my chest cavity that needs to be loosened before the winter weather sets in. I had set a reminder for myself to make an appointment with Joan in Lake Orion, and the alert went off just now.”

“Okay. And you’re hesitating because…?”

“Well, we’ve made a lot of progress in the last few months,” Connor said, and Hank got a bad feeling in his stomach as he realized where this was going. “More than I had anticipated – no offense – and I wondered if maybe…”

“No,” Hank said. Connor looked mildly hurt. He didn’t expect that part. “What? Connor, I – I’m fine with joints and hands and such, but Jesus, I’m not gonna go poking around in there and risk hurting you! Are you outta your mind?”

“I thought you had wanted to learn.”

“I do, but I…” Hank trailed off. Sighed. It was going to come up eventually; it wasn’t fair for him to talk to Connor like it was _that_ far out of left field. He’d done the exercises for this type of thing on the DPD intranet’s learning modules dozens of times. And really, wasn’t it for the best that he _did_ know how to do this, considering he lived and worked with Connor? So he wound himself down and tried again: “You think I’m ready for that?”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t,” Connor said. “The last time I needed something more invasive done, I simply scheduled with Joan. We didn’t even have this discussion. Today, I felt it was the right time to put it on the table.”

Okay. Okay, if Connor thought he could do this, maybe he could. “Be honest,” he said, taking Connor’s hand on the table and clasping it between his own. “It gonna hurt you?”

“Only a little.” Connor’s tone was soft and, Hank swore, a little teasing.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll partially engage the repair protocols to reduce anything unpleasant, but you know I prefer not to suspend my sensory functions completely.”

They’d talked about this before, but Hank hadn’t asked the obvious question the first time. He did now. “Why?”

“It’s… difficult to explain. I suspect another android would understand, but I’m not sure if a human would.”

Hank sat back in his chair. “Try me. It might make me feel better.”

“I can still run some of the diagnostic from my original programming to make sure everything is okay, but… it seems that over time, sensation has also become part of my diagnostic criteria. Removing that makes it so the diagnostic is incomplete.” Connor met his eyes. “Pain serves the same function for me as it does for you, Hank, in that regard. It lets me know if something is wrong, and to what degree. I… I need it, just like you do.”

“Do you engage the repair protocols with Joan?” Hank asked.

“I do, but even then, I lower their effects intermittently just to make sure.” He must have been giving Connor some kind of look, because Connor added a little defensively, “It’s a personal choice, Hank.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Joan has done things like this thousands of times.” Connor smiled, unperturbed. “You haven’t. You aren’t going to hurt me; it’s just a precaution. But wouldn’t _you_ prefer I had a complete diagnostic, just so that you know I’m okay too?”

Even among androids, Hank was pretty fucking sure Connor was the only person he was gonna find that referred to pain as part of a ‘complete diagnostic.’

“Look. I think you’re making this out to be more daunting than it actually will be. It isn’t going to be bad; it’s just going to be enough for me to assess the situation. What I feel would have nothing to do with you, Hank.”

“Yeah, unless I drastically fuck something up,” Hank muttered.

“If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d say your attitude doesn’t inspire much confidence. But you have a better handle on this than you think you do.”

Hank looked up. Connor was taking a huge step, here. There were two choices, here: either say he would try, or say he wasn’t comfortable with it quite yet; either way, he could do better than sitting here taking a shit on Connor’s trust like this. “…Do we need thirium?”

“I’ve already made the necessary preparations,” Connor replied, smiling. “…I was pretty sure you would agree after a short argument.”

“Smartass.” Hank pushed out from the table and started down the hall. “You coming or what?”

“Right behind you.”

One nice thing about taking care of an android was that you didn’t need things to be as completely sterile as a human would. There were still things that could harm an android’s innards, given biocomponents’ similarities to human organs, but androids’ systems were equipped with all kinds of shit to reduce any harm that might be caused. At work, if one of the station androids needed a part swapped out, they just grabbed what they needed and used whatever room was available.

At home, with Connor, they just went wherever was comfortable. It wasn’t like Hank had one of those contraptions Cyberlife used.

All the better for it, too. He didn’t like the idea of Connor dangling from one of those things by a port in his neck. That said, though, Joan still attached him to something that displayed explanations of his diagnostic on a screen. Hank could even understand most of the jargon these days.

“If I bring my laptop in here and set it on the night stand, can you interface with it so I can monitor you?”

“Of course,” Connor said. “But not all of it will be decipherable to you.”

“I know that, but I’ve done enough of the practice shit to have an idea what it’s supposed to look like and what patterns to look out for.”

By the time he had retrieved his laptop and come back into the bedroom, Connor had propped up the pillows and was leaning back against them, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. His LED was yellow. He did nothing to temper neither the facial expression nor the LED when Hank came back in.

He was nervous, and he was allowing Hank to see it. It was something they were getting better at – or, if Hank was honest, something _Connor_ was getting better at. Hank had never had any trouble letting people know exactly how he felt about something. Connor, on the other hand, put up walls like he was building a goddamn fortress. He still did, with most other people. But with Hank, he was – working on it.

“Hey. You good?”

Not looking at him, Connor said automatically, “I’m fine.”

Working on it.

Hank sat down on the bed beside him. “Hey, don’t get snippy. I’m a little jittery too.”

Connor’s face softened as he looked up at him. “I don’t know if I want ‘jittery’ inside my chest cavity.”

Smoothing back Connor’s hair, Hank leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You know what I meant, asshole. We’ll just do one little thing at a time. Let’s get you outta that stiff button-up, for starters.”

“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Hank grumbled. “Hey, aren’t you still sore from last night? I know I am.”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll have all the time in the world for that later if I don’t kill you in the next few minutes.”

“You’d have to make an active effort to kill me,” Connor said. “Nothing you could do on accident is going to put my life in danger. I’m not _that_ fragile.”

He knew that. Logically, he knew that, but it was still good to hear Connor say it.

Connor finished unbuttoning his shirt and parted it. It was strange; he’d touched Connor hundreds of times – with and without chassis – but somehow this felt disproportionately intimate. He’d never touched Connor in this place quite for this reason before. And sure, they could sit here and be practical about it; it was practical enough thing, after all, an android needing something adjusted. But context mattered, and the truth of it was that there was a little more going on between them than a simple repair.

Touching Connor’s chest, Hank applied a little pressure and teased out the seam between two of the plates there as the skin receded. He ran a finger along it, having second thoughts at the idea of actually opening Connor up like this. “Do you, uh… do you think we should, I dunno, at least have another android present? Or Joan, even? I mean, just because we know we’re gonna try this doesn’t mean we gotta try it _right fucking now,_ does it?”

“I don’t want someone else there,” Connor said.

“Okay, now you’re just being stubborn.”

“From where I’m sitting, _you’re_ the one being stubborn, Hank.”

“Nope, it’s definitely you. Do you have any idea how irrational this is? Christ, Connor, do you really think we’re ready for this?”

Connor redirected his gaze from the ceiling to Hank’s eyes, completely serene. “I trust you.”

“That ain’t fair and you know it. This isn’t about trust, it’s about whether I can…”

“It is,” Connor insisted. “It’s a simple adjustment, Hank. If we take it slowly, and listen to each other, nothing is going to go wrong.”

Hank swallowed. “Are you sure?” he asked very deliberately, because he needed to know Connor wasn’t just saying this to get what he wanted.

“Positive.” Connor looked nothing but earnest. “Down the road, when you’ve done this more than a few times, you’ll look back and realize how pointless it was to be worried about this. It’s very, very low-risk.”

Okay. If Connor was this certain, he wasn’t going to keep fucking around and being a wuss about it. Time to get down to business. “I want you to talk to me, you hear? Tell me if you need a minute, and definitely tell me if I’m even getting close to doing something wrong.”

“I will.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Hank took one last look at the screen, then pressed his thumbs against the panel. All it needed was a little push for it to slide open on its own, circular like a camera shutter. As it did, Hank looked up at Connor’s face. Connor blinked several times, LED flickering yellow like he was processing something.

Then he said, completely deadpan, “Hank, I think I’m dying.”

“Very fucking funny.” He wanted to snap at Connor for even daring to fuck with him like that right now, but truth was, he was glad for Connor’s humor. It brought some light back to what his mind had already considerably darkened; reminded him this really wasn’t a big deal. “Okay. What is it that needs adjusting?”

“A connecter about six inches below my heart. It’s too tight and would be at risk for locking up once the weather starts to get colder. It just needs to be turned slightly so that it’s not so stiff.”

Hank was a little bit south of heart territory. “Fuck, did I open the wrong thing?”

“No. This is exactly what you were supposed to do. You’re going to need to reach up behind the chassis a little.”

“Oh, god.” He knew that, though. If he gave it a second, he would have remembered what he had learned. He even knew what part Connor was talking about without him needing to name it, but just in case: “5305r?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

Hank looked at the rope-like cords inside Connor’s torso. They were warm and damp from the thirium running inside them. His hands were big; it wasn’t like he could do this without touching Connor’s insides at all. Then again, most Cyberlife techs probably couldn’t, either. There was just too much in there that was close together.

He started closer, and felt Connor tense beneath him, his free hand braced on Connor’s abdomen. He bit down on the urge to call Connor crazy for not suspending his sensory perception entirely. System-detected maintenance was the _only_ thing that let him turn it off; otherwise, he couldn’t turn it off any more than a human could, so why not take advantage of it while he could? But nope, Connor was fucking Connor, and he was gonna do it his way.

“Quit anticipating,” Hank said instead. “Just ‘cause you can feel me doing this doesn’t mean it’s gotta be bad, right? I’ll be gentle.”

“I know. It’s just new, and I’m aware that you don’t know what parts are sensitive as well as Joan probably would.”

“Like you said, we’re just gonna have to guide each other, here. I mean it, Connor, just talk to me. I don’t bite.”

They’d encountered this barrier before, back when they’d first became intimate: Hank would worry about one thing or another, and Connor would close off and deny any problem because he didn’t want to reinforce that worry. Then neither of them would end up being honest about their own feelings. That _was_ something they both needed to work on. He hoped Connor knew he meant what he said. Hank didn’t need to be reassured about this anymore, not now that they had established it was safe. He willed Connor to say something, anything; to communicate, to give this a chance to be easy.

So when he finally worked his hand between two thick cords and Connor met his eyes and quietly said, “Careful,” Hank was overjoyed.

“You know I will be, darlin. Just keep talking to me. Hey, let’s hear about that interrogation the other day.”

“Oh. There isn’t much to tell, really. I spoke to the woman first, and she wasn’t very forthcoming initially…”

It was good to hear Connor go on, not only because he wanted to distract him a little (Connor was mercifully easy to engage in conversation, even in moments of anxiety like this), but because he would catch anything pained or hesitant in Connor’s voice if Connor was too timid to be honest about it on purpose.

Hank angled his head to get a better look at what he was doing. He used his other hand to pull one of the larger cords out of the way, albeit very slowly, because he knew this was not a motion that would be made with the cord internally; the way he was moving it was only possible with the external manipulation of a hand or a tool.

Connor trailed off his explanation, so Hank paused. “What’s up?”

“You can keep going,” Connor said, and then, when Hank did: “Hold on a sec.”

Holding his hands still, Hank shifted his weight so that his own shadow wasn’t blocking the light and saw that this was just enough. “I think I can work with this, if you can.”

“You’re not hurting me, but it’s… kind of like trying to bend a finger back towards your wrist. It doesn’t hurt as long as you don’t go too far.”

“Can you take a breath? Don’t hold it. Just wanna see something.”

Connor did, long and deep, then let it out. Hank watched his parts shift away from each other slightly, then back together. It helped him put Connor’s insides into better perspective. “Few inches up and inward. Right?”

“That’s right,” Connor said.

“Okay. Deep breath and hold for me.”

Connor didn’t rush it, just pulled in deep on the next inhale and held it as Hank had asked. The intake of air expanded his lungs, which in turned opened up the rest of his body a little more, giving Hank more room to work.

Hank didn’t rush either, pushing his hand further in until the two cords he had parted before were bracketing his wrist, then his lower forearm. Connor was warm; he hoped his hand wasn’t too cold. “Come on, let’s hear about that interrogation.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Connor said warmly. “I appreciate it, but I’m actually slightly curious about this.”

“Yeah, well, you might not be so curious in about two inches. Gonna get a little snug.”

“You’re good,” Connor said. “It’s only just occurring to me that I should have made sure you wouldn’t be grossed out by this. I know some of it is… uncomfortably similar to humans.”

Not similar enough, apparently, because Hank hadn’t even thought about that factor. Even the organ-like components had a slight transparency and a mechanical glow about them that made this whole thing palatable. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d mind anyway, just because it was Connor.

“Easy,” Connor said a minute later. “Starting to feel a little pressure, now. Which is fine. I just wanted to let you know.”

“I got you.” He ran the palm of his free hand over Connor’s front, thumb going back and forth in soothing motions. Almost unconsciously, he mimicked the motion with the hand inside Connor’s chest cavity, thumbing over a cord.

“Mmph…”

“Shit, Connor, sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry. You all right?”

“Yes, I’m…” Connor blinked rapidly again. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry.” Connor’s hand fell over Hank’s free one, and Hank suddenly remembered that Connor could move. “You’re going to want to shift your hand slightly towards my center. Just a few inches. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah.” Hank angled his wrist, watching Connor’s face every time he moved, now, because he was in there pretty deep and it was a little intimidating. Connor was looking straight back at him, nodding him along. “Right about there, yeah? Here we go.”

“Exactly. Good. Now you’re going to take your index finger and thumb and pinch that little cylinder, then turn it to the left. Your finger will rotate towards my back, your thumb will come back towards you.”

It was, as he had figured it would be, a tight fit. He couldn’t get the leverage he needed with his hand without his knuckles pushing into two nearby components.

He was about to say so when Connor tightened his hand over Hank’s free one and said, “I’m okay, Hank. I promise.”

So Hank did as Connor had instructed. He felt the resistance of Connor’s parts against his hand as he gripped the cylinder, but Connor didn’t flinch; he just rested his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

“Tell me when,” Hank murmured. “Don’t wanna make you fall apart or something.”

“Right about there,” Connor said. “Yes. It’s perfect just like that.”

Hank let go and straightened his hand again, relieved. “Now I’m just gonna leave the same way I came in, right? Nothin’ else you need me to do while I’m in here?”

“No, that was all.”

Hank started to pull his hand towards himself. He managed to brush against the same wire he had run his thumb along before, and Connor made another noise. This time, his hand shifted down and locked around Hank’s elbow, _hard_ , keeping him exactly where he was.

“Okay,” Hank said gently. “I’m not moving. You’re okay.”

Connor took a steadying breath, looking like he was trying to parse out exactly what he was reacting to. After a moment, he said in a small voice, “Try that again.”

“Uh…”

“It’s… unusual, is all,” Connor added. “I’m just trying to gauge exactly why – _mm_.”

“You told me to do it again,” Hank said apologetically. “What is it? Something wrong?”

“No, I… it, it actually…”

_Ohhh._ Hank touched the cord again, applying a little more pressure to the motion this time. “That feel good?”

“It _does,_ ” Connor said. “I mean – not in a sexual capacity, or at least, it doesn’t _have_ to be in a sexual capacity. Much the same way a massage is physically comforting.”

Hank was dubious. Connor had reacted physically and vocally, and that was usually reserved for pain or especially intense pleasure. “ _Could_ it be in a sexual capacity?”

“I…” Hank kept running his thumb over the cord, while Connor… felt whatever the fuck Connor was feeling, finding little grooves in its texture and pinching there experimentally.

“Well?” Hank asked, leaning closer. It was obvious Connor was enjoying this.

“Hank, that would be extremely irresponsible,” Connor said, his voice perfectly even as he met Hank’s eyes. “I’d like to try it.”

Wait, fuck. He thought he’d just been teasing. “Uh, aren’t we already trying it?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Hank kept massaging while he tried to figure out what Connor _did_ mean. He moved his hand upward, a little deeper into Connor’s chest cavity along the cord, finding a spot where it was about as thick as his thumb. His index finger ran over a small nodule there, under the cord, and Connor twitched and gasped. Hank replicated the motion and Connor _yelled,_ a sound gloriously unrestrained, slamming his head back. Holy shit. That was an actual sensory node, right there under Hank’s bare fingertip.

“Too much?”

“Fuck,” Connor supplied, which would’ve startled a laugh out of Hank if he wasn’t a little worried. “Okay.” Connor took a breath that made his cheeks puff out on the exhale. “Okay.”

“Too much,” Hank confirmed.

“Stop fretting. Hank, I feel things intensely sometimes. That’s okay. Let me react.” Connor’s tone was so laced with frustration it lacked its usual undercurrent of diplomacy and awkwardness.

“I’ll fucking _fret_ all I like, thanks.” Better safe than sorry. Making a point of this, Hank moved his fingers closer to where they’d been before, a few inches away from the node, not wanting to overdo it all at once. Fuck if ‘let me react’ wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever heard come out of Connor’s mouth, though.

“You’re teasing me,” Connor said.

“I knew you got promoted to Detective for a good reason.”

“Hank,” Connor started. Hank didn’t wait for him to finish; he slid his hand back up and dug a blunt nail into the node, already eager to watch Connor move. _React._

Connor twisted his head hard into the pillow, a broken burst of voice shuddering out of his throat as his entire body coiled around the sensation. His LED went from blue straight to red.

Fuck – for someone who could shut down the way Connor could, he could sure fucking come to life, too. His face and body were completely unguarded, no amount of muting or self-control in those movements, and it made Hank hard as a rock.

“So, what were you gonna say before?” Hank asked, because they’d never gotten back to what Connor meant.

Connor halfway recovered, rolling his head to look at Hank, mouth still partially open from having cried out, and said, “I was going tell you I wanted to have sex with you.”

The word “fucking” tumbled out of Hank’s mouth without any accompaniment. “What, you mean like… full-on sex? Like…”

“Yes.” Connor’s reply left no room for doubt. “With you still inside me like this. Yes.”

“I mean, it’s one thing to mess around with a weird node or whatever, but… Connor, I… okay, no, you’ve _got_ to be fucking with me.”

“I am not fucking with you.” Connor’s voice was almost urgent. “Pleasure aside, there is something about this that’s…” Connor looked down between them, at Hank’s hand buried halfway up the forearm in his insides. When he looked back up, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “To consciously want someone inside your body, not just to _tolerate_ them there, but to actually _want_ them there, simple because it means being joined as closely as possible…” Connor trailed off. “I don’t know. Do you ever have a moment when you just realize how much you love someone?”

Holy shit, Connor wasn’t kidding. Connor wasn’t kidding and Hank had no idea what to do with this. He leaned down slowly and planted a kiss on Connor’s lips, partly because he just fucking _wanted_ to and partly, if he was honest, to fill time while he figured out what to do. “All the fucking time,” he said. “Connor, even with your maintenance protocols on, it’s pretty fucking obvious you’re… sensitive, in here. You sure you wanna do this?”

“You didn’t hurt me, Hank. Even if you did, I’d never hold it against you. It was just new. But if you don’t want to, I understand. It’s only if you’re comfortable with it, too.”

Somehow, that was when Hank knew he was. “…Fuck. Take off your pants. You got more free hands than I do.”

Connor happily obliged, then reached up to pull Hank down towards him. Hank had to rotate his arm slightly to really get in close, but they managed, mouths slotting together and coming apart in soft, wet noises as Hank wrapped his free hand around Connor’s length.

“I’m not a leftie so I dunno if this is gonna work as well.”

“I don’t particularly care about my penis right now. I want _you._ Besides, don’t you think we have other ways to accomplish the same end?”

Hank just plain _hadn’t thought_ that far yet, actually.

Seeming to pick up on this, Connor set to undoing his belt. “This is for both of us. I want as much of you inside me as possible.”

“Jesus,” Hank breathed while Connor freed him. He reached down and pushed against Connor’s knee, urging his legs apart. With his right hand still tugging that wire in the middle of Connor’s chest, he grabbed at Connor’s thighs and ass with his left, slowly working his way down towards Connor’s hole. Connor had already begun to self-lubricate, so he pushed one finger inside.

“Yes.” It was less a word, more an exhale given an approximate shape as Connor arched his back. Hank worked his finger further inside Connor, twisting it, pulling towards each edge and stretching him apart. Connor braced his feet on the bed and pushed his hips up, making himself completely vulnerable to Hank’s touch, and Hank slid a second finger in alongside the first and pushed deep. “Hank. Fuck.”

Leaning down, Hank kissed his neck, his chest, then the edge of the opening on Connor’s abdomen. Connor _lurched,_ jostling his wires and components around Hank’s hand. “Jesus Christ, be careful!”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, voice tight and needy. After a moment, he came back down, and said again, “It’s okay. Pleasure seems to dull the sensitivity, or at least, turn it into something that’s far more positive than negative.” Reaching up, Connor massaged Hank’s forearm. “You don’t need to keep being this stiff. You’re going to get a cramp.”

“Fuck,” Hank breathed, because his arm _was_ tired, and his cock ached with need, and this was fucking crazy. He slid his two fingers out of Connor’s ass and leaned down over Connor so that their faces were inches apart again.

Connor stilled himself and held onto Hank’s arm. “Go on and let yourself relax inside me. I’ve got you.”

Hank gave it his best effort, feeling wires and soft mesh go taut around his right hand as he let the angle of his wrist slacken.

“Go on,” Connor encouraged again, holding onto him. Then, he looped his other arm around Hank’s back. “Here. Close to me, like we always are when we do this.”

“Hey, nice and easy.” Hank shifted, using the moment as an opportunity to align his tip with Connor’s entrance.

“I know. I just – want you close.” Connor’s eyes were warm and trusting and wanting. “Don’t think about where your hand is. I want it there.”

Fuck, if that wasn’t hot as hell. Connor _wanting_ this was hot as hell. This was something else.

Hank rolled his hips, pushing into him slowly. Connor kept one hand on Hank’s arm, the other around his back, holding Hank close while he fucked into Connor a little at a time, sliding a little further with each shallow thrust. Connor made a soft sound, a high, stunted moan, and that was when Hank pushed into him all the way, making Connor stretch open around the base of his cock. “Yeah?”

“Yes, fuck,” Connor was a tangle of limbs around him, his arm around Hank’s body and both legs wrapping around the backs of his thighs and pulling him in deeper. “God, I love you.”

“I fuckin’ love you too.”

And Hank knew that there was something different about this time. They’d just blown a fucking hole through the ceiling of vulnerability and Connor was – Connor was loving every second of it, of giving himself to Hank like this, of having this much of Hank within him. Not because it felt good but because it was _Hank,_ because it was _them._

Connor’s eyes locked with his own, wide open and completely present as he asked, “Do you want to go deeper?”

“Christ, Connor, I’m as deep as I can go. Here I thought I was big enough for you.”

“No, that’s not what I… never mind.”

He realized what Connor meant at the same time he realized Connor was shy about asking it. Or maybe he hadn’t been shy in asking it, but he sure was now that it had finished coming out of his mouth.

The thing was, Hank did. Now that Connor had posed the question, now that Connor had put it on the table as something he could feasibly do, yes, Hank _did_ want to go deeper. Because he was fucking into this shit, wasn’t he? He felt like he could live forever off the honesty and acquiescence in Connor’s eyes, the way Connor so selflessly wanted Hank to be into this, too. Connor hadn’t asked him that because Connor wanted him to go deeper, or at least that wasn’t the main reason; he had asked in case _Hank_ wanted to.

It was like Connor was reading his mind, because as soon as Hank reconciled all this, Connor let go of his arm, giving him free rein, complete access to – everything. Connor’s arms and legs wrapped around him, encasing him, making him feel safe and held even though he was the one on top (and even though, with Hank inside Connor’s body in two places, Connor was very much the one who needed to feel safe right now). He let more of his weight rest on the arm that was in Connor’s chest, and that alone drove him further in as he leaned down.

He was cautious, aware of himself every time he moved or shifted. And every time he did, Connor would mumble a “yeah” or a “that’s good” or, just once or twice, “a little bit slower, Hank,” between kisses. Connor pushed his tongue into Hank’s mouth, resting his head back on the pillow and encouraging Hank all the way down on top of him, with only his arm sandwiched between them.

They both knew where he was going, didn’t they?

“Connor,” Hank choked out, suddenly full of emotion as he realized what _exactly_ he was doing and just how close he probably was to doing it. He had to double-check, though, because Connor had indicated earlier that he would feel pain if something went wrong, and doing what he was on his way to doing would probably register in his system as ‘something going wrong.’ “I know you don’t care, and to be honest, this isn’t gonna stop me as long as we both want it. But is this gonna hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Connor said honestly, and then, with a devious glint in his eye: “Let’s find out, shall we?”

His arm was in Connor’s chest cavity almost up to the elbow now. The backs of his fingers brushed against a soft, almost rubbery mesh, and he folded them away from it immediately, just in case. It was warm and slightly wet and – Hank waited before confirming what else he thought he felt there, searching Connor’s eyes.

Connor whispered, “Touch me.”

He let the backs of his fingers touch the mesh again, this time letting them rest there to get his answer. And yes, that was absolutely a pulse, and it was steady and strong and _fast_.

Hank got a little braver, adjusting himself to gently enclose his hand around Connor’s lifeforce.

Connor gave a full-body spasm and clenched tight around his cock, wrenching a surprised cry out of Hank just as Connor let out a grunt himself. Connor’s hot breathing brushed against Hank’s cheek and ear.

“I’ve got you,” Hank breathed, though he wasn’t quite sure if he had himself.

“I need,” Connor said, clutching onto him like he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. “Hank, I…”

“Are you okay?” A surge of passion and love stronger than almost anything Hank had ever felt in his life made his voice waver. “’S all I need to know, baby. Are you okay.”

“Yes. Hank. Hank. God, _yes_.” Connor’s blunt nails dragged down Hank’s back to squeeze at his ass. “Can I…? Please. I know it’s not what we usually…”

As soon as Connor had said he was okay, Hank had started rutting into him again, because Jesus, he wasn’t gonna last, and by the wrecked look on the beautiful face below him, it didn’t seem like Connor was gonna last either. This was too intense. He fucking loved it but he was gonna be stiff as a board tomorrow.

“What do you want, darlin?” He wished he had a free hand to card through Connor’s brown hair, to touch him, to caress his jaw. He settled for burying his face in the crook of Connor’s neck, using his lips and tongue there until Connor moaned again.

Then, Connor’s roaming hand slid down into the crease of Hank’s ass, and Hank realized what Connor was asking.

Connor must’ve seen it on his face, because he brought himself down a notch and said, “Only if you want to.”

“Yeah,” Hank said, getting over whatever inconsequential barrier had been there, because yes, he absolutely wanted Connor inside him too. Anything to reciprocate this absolutely mind-blowing willingness in some small way – but even outside that, fucking yes, he just wanted Connor, right now.

Connor wet his fingers in his mouth. While Hank kept thrusting into him, he slid his hand down Hank’s back again – this time leaving a trail of synthetic spit in its wake – and slid one slim finger up his ass.

“Fuck,” Hank groaned, burying himself in Connor, rolling his hips hard, slapping sounds echoing off the walls as his thighs smacked against Connor’s. He didn’t forget for a second where his right hand was, making sure not to hold too hard even as he felt Connor’s pulse quicken in his hand. And Jesus, Connor was getting _hot_ inside. Not quite enough to burn, but enough to make Hank worry just a little.

Connor pulled out, then pushed back in with two fingers, mirroring Hank’s next thrusting motion with his own, entering his body all the way up to the knuckles, perfectly in time with Hank’s pleasure so that it felt nothing but divine.

At the same time he filled Hank’s ass, Connor’s paneling tried to close around Hank’s arm, surrounding it like a shutter as if it was trying to hold him there. The heat intensified and the paneling, phasing in and out with Connor’s synthetic skin, bit into his arm hard enough to make indentations. He had no idea if Connor meant to do it, and he did not care. The sensation of Connor closing around his arm and Connor stuffing his fingers into him banished any coherent pattern of thought from his mind.

“Connor, holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

“Hank.” Connor’s voice was full of love and affection. He sounded high with it, and Hank was fucking high with it too. They were two people as physically and emotionally connected as two people could be. Connor. Connor, beneath him. Connor around him, Connor inside of him. Connor. Everywhere. Connor. Connor.

“Connor,” he choked out, way too far gone to even worry about how desperate he sounded, because fuck it, he wanted to give that to Connor, too. Connor had given him everything about him; he would give all of himself to Connor. “Fuck. Connor, god, I love you…”

Connor’s climax followed his, overlapping it, cresting atop his gasps and soft, high moans of “Hank, Hank, yes, Hank…”

“I’ve got you, baby, come on, yeah, there we go…” Even as he could feel his own climax starting to wind down, he pushed into Connor, rolling his hips up to hit that spot deep inside him. Connor didn’t even have his free hand on his own cock; he had every part of himself on or in Hank, and he was coming untouched. Hank just fucked him through it, marveling at the way Connor’s lips parted, the way he writhed and twisted, the way his brown eyes found Hank’s in between the waves, the wetness beading at the corners of those eyes.

At the very end, Hank leaned down and lapped up the stray tear that made it down Connor’s temple with a soft kiss. They stayed like that for a minute, both of them breathing like they’d just chased down a perp, both of them fucking trembling like crazy.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Another minute passed. Hank became vaguely aware of the fact that the room smelled like sweat and sex and warm metal.

“I, uh…” Connor laughed shakily, the breath of it ghosting against the shell of Hank’s ear. “This may be a bit of a dilemma.”

“What is,” Hank mumbled into Connor’s bare shoulder, exhausted.

“Well. Your hand is currently very deep in my open chest cavity, and I… put two fingers inside of you rather quickly with, uh… spit, which isn’t a viable form of lubrication for very long.”

Yeah, that was one of those things you could really only get away with at the top of a crescendo of pleasure. It was fine, it was fucking _great,_ but he was glad Connor had asked, because that was gonna be sore tomorrow and he might’ve said no if he had to work.

Hank started laughing at the absurdity of it all. Soon enough, he felt Connor shaking with laughter, too.

“I guess we’re stuck like this forever,” Connor said between chuckles, and although Hank still had his forehead firmly planted on the pillow above Connor’s shoulder, he could hear the ease and the affection in his voice.

“Guess so,” Hank said. “Okay, really, though. How about you first. It’ll be easier to get my fucking arm out of you if I can sit up, and right now I can’t sit up without further impaling myself.”

“Okay.”

Connor went slow, because Hank didn’t do this a lot and between that and with the haphazard way they’d done it, there was… a little resistance. He shuddered once before he could stifle it.

“Try not to clench,” Connor said, pushing his knee upward in a way that urged Hank to spread his legs. Jesus, talk about the awkward moments _after_ to really solidify just how batshit they’d just gotten. “There we go. If you’re up for it later, I can use one finger and some lubricant. It may help soothe things a little.”

That would probably sound fucking nice if he wasn’t dead tired and overstimulated, but that was no doubt why Connor had said ‘later.’ Hank rocked back, then shifted himself over Connor’s leg so that he could kneel beside him on the bed. It eased the growing cramp in his hand and made it a little easier to pull it out of Connor smoothly.

“You’re lookin’ like you’re a little overstimulated too,” he commented. “You good?”

“Yeah. One motion is fine, just do it slowly.”

Hank did, and it wasn’t quite as agonizing as he was afraid it might be. Connor tensed but otherwise didn’t protest. As soon as Hank had pulled his hand out all the way, Connor melted into the bed, letting out a breath.

“Fuck,” Hank said.

“No kidding.”

Laughing again, he flopped down beside Connor, running a hand over his chest once the panel had finished closing and watching the skin spread back over his exposed chassis in a brilliant ripple of blue.

“You know,” Connor said sometime later, when Hank was half-dozing. “We can’t do that all the time.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“I want it to stay special.”

That was fair enough. “This gonna be awkward tomorrow morning, you think?”

He wasn’t looking at Connor, but he could tell Connor shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think you should get up, come call me a crazy fucking android, and then kiss me as filthily as you can. I’ll take it from there.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

…

The next morning didn’t actually happen that way.

What happened was that Hank was the one who got up first; at 9:33 AM, Connor’s interface would inform him once he came back online. Connor stayed in stasis – or, as they both tended to call it these days, _slept in_ – for an hour longer. He had finished running the diagnostic, but one last self-repair to an overheated component was still completing.

When Connor got up at 10:26 AM and found Hank in the kitchen, and Hank turned to him with his face and his arms open to him, Connor knew he had forgotten his line. And maybe Connor had wanted him to, if he was honest, because this – the way they came together, Connor leaning into Hank’s waiting embrace and feeling Hank’s arms come around his back and shoulders, Hank’s fingers curling and sinking into his clothes and flesh to keep him close – this was much better.

He felt oddly needy, albeit not in a bad way. He wondered if maybe Hank did, too, and slid his hands around Hank’s soft body, draping his arms around Hank’s waist and linking his hands around his lower back.

They stood like that in the kitchen as one, bodies pressed together, warmth between them, a stream of sunlight glinting off the dust in the morning air.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://ld200.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LD200_)!
> 
> If you want more Hankcon from me but more A LOT more plot (…and more porn, eventually), Eternal Winter is much heavier and plot-based but it is just getting to some good Hankcon feels now and the rest of the story is pretty much an ongoing Hankcon feel with some plot to excuse it lol. Check it out if you're looking for an adventure with some dark and some light.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


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